The fact that it still cannot be disproved is testament to what a well-written account is about Harry’s life This book is.
And what an extraordinary life Harry lived.
The story opens with a description of the last day before everything changes with the death of his mother; August 30, 1997.
He and William are in Balmoral, the queen’s native Scotland, and we get a fascinating picture not only of that day, but their entire crazy childhood, their crazy privilege, where they lived. was served fish fingers in front of a television screen by servants carrying plates covered with “fancy silver domes” that were elaborately removed. They slept in stiff sheets of amazing yarn, embossed with his grandmother’s “EIIR” code. They bow to the statue of Queen Victoria every time they pass by. Meanwhile, his father is often seen standing upside down in his bedroom in his shorts, at the behest of a physiotherapist, trying to heal an old polo wound. Wes Anderson will have a field day.
Much has been made of Harry’s alleged pettiness in related examples of him being treated less favorably than his brother.
One of these happens here; the fact that he and William shared a split room, but William “had a larger half room, with a double bed, a good sized basin, a cupboard with mirrored doors, a nice window overlooking the courtyard In, fountain, bronze statue of a deer. Half of my room is a lot smaller. Less luxurious. I never asked why. I do not care. But I don’t even need to ask. Two years older than me, Willie is the Heir, while I am the Backup.”
Harry (or should we say his ghostwriter) is doing something smarter than stomping his feet and saying, “That’s not fair.” He is describing how he is openly conditioned to accept, without question, his inferiority to his brother, and invites the reader to shake his head in amazement at the absurdity of it all. , and wondering what that would do to a child.
His mother’s death is the beating heart of this book, and one of the best passages in the memoir, Harry took us to his bedroom on that dreary morning, his wretched father sat helplessly on the edge of a huge sunken bed with all its fine linen. Charles finally broke the news by saying, “They tried, dear boy. I’m afraid she won’t make it.”
Harry’s narration of the days after her death and her funeral is also astounding, with a chilling writing that gives the eerie feeling that we’re watching a pantomime unfold behind glass. . Harry is so disconnected from his emotions that he refuses to believe that his mother is actually dead, a willful delusion he continues to harbor for years.
He said that Diana’s sister, Sarah McCorquodale, gave him and William, “two little blue boxes” containing Diana’s hair. He wrote, “Aunt Sarah explained that, while in Paris, she had cut two locks of hair on Mother’s head. So it was. Proof. She’s really gone.”
The reader might be forgiven for thinking this is a macabre example of what Harry would later call Windsor’s “cult of death,” so, with a little surprise as we read, more than 20 years later, that he still has the blue box on his nightstand—and believe it miraculously encouraged a positive result on Meghan’s first pregnancy test.
His conflict with his family, especially his brother, is another major theme of the book, and he paints a compelling portrait of the anguish of brothers in war. William was overbearing, controlling, and despised his brother, and although they loved each other very much, the resentments piled up layer by layer, like the stones in the Tower of London that Harry would later tell him. we are plastered. Mix with animal blood for extra strength.
“Publishing Kate’s text message to Meghan in their row about a bridesmaid dress for Charlotte is simply downright hypocritical for a privacy and compassion advocate.“
Harry began to use alcohol and drugs, but strangely, his habits remained unchecked. He acts nervous to give the impression that he has no problem with drugs, just really enjoys peaking, hence the quirky bragging account of waste magic mushrooms at Courtney Cox’s home and communicate with a talking crate. One is left with the impression that he is still involved in the relationship perhaps infrequently.
His account of his time in the military is a bit odd. The stories of killing the enemy rather than the Boy’s Own, and the now well-documented admission that he killed 25 enemy warriors is proof that all powerful figures need counselors are brave enough to say, “Maybe not, sir,” rather than yes.
Some readers may find their sympathy for Harry somewhat depleted in the final third of the book as he goes to war with his family and then leaves it. It is no coincidence, perhaps, that this, of course, is where the flow of trivial revelations becomes a cascade. But the endless accusations against Camilla make him look mean, and the publication of Kate’s text messages to Meghan in their row about a bridesmaid dress for Charlotte is simply blasphemous. hypocrisy to a privacy and compassion advocate. When William shoves him and he breaks a dog bowl, one can’t help but wonder: who has a porcelain dog bowl?
When the core of the dispute is singled out, it all becomes a little too much, a bit ridiculous, and completely unlike the magical revelation in the opening of the book that Princess Margaret once gave him one. Christmas biro speaks volumes about the enduring madness of Britain’s ruling family.
A scene in which he and Meghan gawk with envy at William and Kate’s apartment, which is decorated with priceless artefacts from the Royal Collection, while Harry groans that they’ve just bought a chair The new length with her credit card from sofa.com is jarring, especially considering that £2.4million (as public records will later reveal) taxpayer money at that time was used to renovate Frogmore Cottage for them.
Their treatment of the media was appalling, and the story of how the paparazzi ruined each of his relationships by spying on his girlfriend was horrifying. But Harry vented his anger at the press towards his family, growing increasingly outraged that William and Charles would not engage in what they saw as his ill-advised battle with the media. Harry then concludes that they are colluding with the newspapers and summaries against them.
It was a 2+2=5 moment, aided by the contradictions of Harry’s own burgeoning media career.
In interviews, Harry is often seen as short-tempered, spoiled, childish, and vindictive. Thanks to the work of the screenwriter JR Moehringer, in this book most of those rough edges are honed and overall he conveys the impression of a person with many flaws but extremely sympathy.
In the end, however, there is a huge reliability gap. Writing a book like this is simply a betrayal of your family—and that means it’s hard to stop his endless protests that he wants to make peace with the growing tribe. his troubles with the reality of the damned but pretty excellent book in your hands.